


All We Need to Make It Through

by dizzy



Series: Trip and Stumble [16]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All We Need to Make It Through

**Author's Note:**

> Mav, Scott, and Jude - I owe you all a drink some time. Thanks for putting up with me and this story for the past year.

“I have no idea what I’m doing here,” Chris says into the phone, voice low. He’s in a hallway alcove and he doesn’t think there’s anyone around to eavesdrop but he doesn’t want to risk it. “There’s no way I’m qualified for this. I’m not even that great of a writer!” 

Darren’s laugh is warm and comforting, soothing his nerves. “Chris, shut the fuck up. You’re an _amazing_ writer. If you weren’t, your professor wouldn’t have recommended you for this in the first place. But even if you don’t get it - it’s just an interview. You’ve got a few more coming up.” 

“Right.” It’s true; he’s been careful not to put all of his job and internship related eggs in one basket. Chris knows that he’s technically not the best writer this school can boast, not even by a long shot. But college has also taught him that he can still have a lot to offer and he can still tell stories that bring out the right emotions in people, that there’s more to success in writing than technical prowess. That’s why he still has a shot at this, or at least thinks he does. “Right. I do. I just - I want this one. 

It’s perfect for him; well-paying and with daytime hours, leaving him free to split his nights between shifts at the library (where he can usually get most of his homework done) and seeing Darren’s shows. 

“Well, I think you’re gonna kill it, okay? It’s almost three. Go blow this bitch out of the water and then get ready, because I’m gonna pick you up and we’re going for sushi.” 

Chris smiles and forces himself to breathe in and out again. “Okay. It shouldn’t take too long. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Break a leg, baby,” Darren says. 

Chris hangs up the phone and slides it into his bag, then smooths his hands down over his shirt to straighten any wrinkles out, and heads into his interview. 

* 

Chris slips into the venue half an hour late, but he’s not worried. Darren isn’t going on until second (and, his text to Chris earlier said, maybe third if the band supposed to be on didn’t return the managers calls) so the only thing Chris misses out on is a spot right up front. 

He hasn’t actually been out to a club yet this semester. It’s still early, he’s sure they’ll manage a night or two with their friends at some point, but they’re just… they’re _busy_. Both of them, like their lives are suddenly bustling with activity and Chris isn’t even sure how or when it became like this. 

He’s still in school but everything is geared toward the future now. It trips him up to think about, makes him pause and cling a little too tightly to the moment he sees Darren step on stage because this - this sight, this man in front of him singing his heart out and finding Chris every time he stops long enough to look about the crowd - this is what college has been to Chris, from the first time he saw Darren in class that first week of school right on through to now, the impending end. 

*

It’s late September. The apartment is empty but Darren proves that he doesn’t have to be in Michigan to wake Chris up. 

it’s half past eight when his phone starts to blare Darren’s voice. It takes three loops for Chris to even comprehend the words. 

_Good morning, good morning, we’ve danced the whole night through… good morning, good morning, to you…_

He grabs his phone, grinning, and goes straight to his text messages. Darren’s name is the top one on the list. Darren is almost always the person he’s talked to most recently. 

He takes a moment to skim through their conversations from the last few days, everything from the mundane (grocery shopping reminders, flight times) to silly and random (a photo of a wind chime that definitely looked more like a penis than whatever it was supposed to look like) to the late night ‘miss you so much it hurts even though you’ve only been gone a day’ from only hours before, the messages that turned into a phone call that might have turned into phone sex if Darren hadn’t been sleeping on someone’s couch and not feeling quite that risky. 

Chris opens a new message and sends: _I love you, even if you are sneaky. Thank you for the song. Break a leg today. <3_

*

“Boo, you gotta make that call,” Ashley says, eyeing him with an almost maternal concern. 

Chris sits across from her, head in his arms. His eyes are closed and he can tell his discomfort is broadcast in his posture and his expression. “Can’t,” he mumbles. “Too busy.” 

She reaches out and rubs his arm. “You need anything?” 

“A gun. To shoot myself.” Chris whines. “A scalpel so I can cut this tooth out myself. Or just… more medicine.” 

“You haven’t even taken anything?” Ashley asks. 

“It didn’t hurt when I left the apartment, and I don’t usually carry medicine with me,” Chris explains. This is how it’s been; a toothache that pops up out of nowhere but comes on strong when it does arrive. 

Ashley sighs. “Sit tight, okay?” 

“You don’t have to…” Chris makes a token gesture of protestation but secretly he’s just really relieved. 

His mouth has been hurting on and off for weeks now. He suspects it’s wisdom teeth, and that’s what everyone else has been telling him, but when it is hurting he’s too distracted trying to make it stop to bother with a dentist appointment and when it’s not hurting he just doesn’t think about it. 

He barely moves until she comes back, sliding a bottle in front of him. “Highway fucking robbery up in that bookstore. You owe me like eight bucks.” 

“Worth it,” Chris says, slurred because he’s trying not to move his mouth. He swallows three pills with a swing of water and then winces, cradling his head in his arms again. 

“How did the hobbit let you even leave the house this morning?” Ashley plays with his hair. It feels good, a nice distraction. 

“He’s gone til Tuesday,” Chris says. “In Los Angeles getting some stuff set up with his new agent.” 

“Agent?” She whistles. “Hot stuff.” 

Chris perks up. “Yeah. The Harry Potter show taking off got him some attention. He’s doing new headshots and he has an audition lined up already.”

“Well goodie gumdrops for him. Now you don’t go anywhere, I’m gonna go get you something to eat.” She gets up and as soon as Chris starts to protest adds, “Soup or do you think you’re up for jello?” 

He winces. “Soup, please.” 

* 

That night, he skypes with Darren. He’s not planning on mentioning the tooth. It feels better, thanks to regular dosing of painkillers. There’s no need to bother Darren with it, right?

But the first thing Darren says to him is, “A little birdie tells me you need to make a dentist appointment.” 

“I’m gonna kill her.” Chris pouts into the camera. 

“Okay, but no bloodstains and wait until after so she can give you a ride,” Darren advises. “I gave her permission to badger you. She has a key, if you try to avoid her she’ll just show up.” 

“I hate you both,” Chris says. “Fine. I’ll call tomorrow. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Darren gives him a stretched-wide smile and then runs his fingers through his hair. “I got-” 

“Oof,” Chris interrupts when Beni jumps onto his lap to inspect Darren’s image on the computer screen. 

“Aww, baby girl, it’s like she recognizes-” Darren stops to laugh when she flicks her tail and then turns so that her ass is right in front of the camera. “Yeah. She definitely recognizes me.” 

Chris laughs and pushes the cat out of the way. “What were you saying?” 

“I’ve meeting some friends for dinner so I only have a few minutes,” Darren says. 

“I met up with Lauren earlier. She says hi, by the way.” It’s almost ten pm for Chris. He’s in comfortable pajamas with an open Word document on his computer, a paper waiting to be finished before he goes to bed. He doesn’t think it’ll give him too much trouble but cutting their call short means he can finish it up sooner. He’s not too upset. “Don’t forget to email me your flight info back so I know what time to pick you up.” 

Darren groans. “I feel like I just got here.” 

“You did,” Chris points out. “Doesn’t feel quite so much like a vacation anymore, does it?” 

“Not even remotely. But - it’s fun. The audition earlier, I met this dude while I was waiting-” Darren stops when his phone vibrates audibly on the table by him. “Hold on.” 

Chris tabs back over to the paper and rereads his last couple of paragraphs, tweaking a couple of things until Darren’s done. 

“Sorry, Kelly’s almost here to pick me up.” Darren sounds distracted, but he puts his phone down after a second. “Had to text Chuck and let him know I’m on my way. You think you’ll still be up in a couple hours?”

“Maybe,” Chris says. “Why?” 

“I want to tell you about the audition. I’ll text you when I get in, if you don’t answer I’ll just call tomorrow.” 

The name Kelly isn’t familiar, and a little bit of jealousy tugs at Chris but he trusts Darren. The distance with Darren abroad, the fact that seeing each other isn’t an effort but an everyday occurrence, it’s helped to smooth out some of those bumps. It doesn’t matter who Darren hangs out with at dinner. He’s coming home to Chris. 

“Have fun,” Chris says, smiling fondly at Darren’s face even though he’s leaning half out of the frame. “Love you.” 

He pops back in full view and gives Chris a big smile. “Love you, too. Bye!” 

*

Chris keeps his promise. He goes to the dentist, and as he leaves he calls Darren. 

“So what’s the verdict?” Darren says. 

“Wisdom teeth,” Chris says. “Just like I thought.” 

“Ouch. They gonna yank ‘em?” Darren asks. There’s background noise behind him, like he’s outside. 

“Yeah. I made an appointment tomorrow.” Chris still isn’t happy about it. 

“I thought you were going to try for Wednesday?” Darren asks, and yeah, that’s why Chris isn’t happy about it. 

Darren will be back Tuesday. On Wednesday, he could be around to pick Chris up since he already knows trying to make it back home on his own will be strongly advised against. “The only openings they had were Monday or Friday.” 

“You couldn’t do Friday?” Darren asks. “Or does it hurt that bad.” 

Chris doesn’t say anything, because the answer is yes and it makes him embarrassed. 

Darren picks up on it anyway. “Aw, babe. I wish I was there.” 

“I wish you were too,” Chris whispers. Then he swallows it back down, because making Darren feel bad is the last thing he wants to do. “But it’s fine. Ashley’s already said she can take me and pick me up.” 

“Yeah? Okay, that’s good,” Darren says. “I gotta go, I’m meeting someone for lunch, but I think that you should go home, okay? Put on one of my hoodies, take some medicine, cuddle the cat if she’ll sit still for five minutes, and watch some tv.” 

Chris smiles. “That would sound amazing except for all of the homework I still have to do.” 

“Oh, homework. I forgot you young’uns have to deal with it…” Darren sighs. “It seems like so long ago…” 

“Like you even did homework while you were in school,” Chris teases. 

“You wound me, good sir.” Darren sighs melodramatically. “Okay I really have to go now though.” 

“Fine, fine, go live the LA life. Call me later.” Chris smiles, some of the worry eased away just through the conversation and connection. “Love you.” 

*

By Monday the worry is back tenfold. Chris wakes up torn between pain and dread. It’s only the fact that pain starts to win that motivates him onto his feet, up and getting dressed. 

Ashley knocks on his door half an hour before the appointment. Chris answers, hand cupped protectively over the side of his mouth that’s aching as he lets her in. 

“Well, I guess that means you’re ready,” she says sympathetically. 

He just nods, a touch miserably and follows her out. 

He tries to call Darren on his way but Darren doesn’t answer. It leaves him feeling uncomfortably unsettled. He knows rationally that talking to Darren wouldn’t do anything, it just… makes him feel better anyway. 

But he doesn’t _need_ Darren here to fuction. He’s not a kid. He doesn’t _need_ his hand held. 

He’ll be fine. It’s just the dentist. 

He doesn’t say much to Ashley on the drive. 

*

In the chair afterward, everything feels swirly and surreal. 

Chris is floating and he doesn’t like it. Panic rises in him and his chest goes tight, hands flailing around, grabbing for something, anything, to tether him to the ground. 

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the nurse soothes him. “It’s okay, sweetie.” 

She sounds so sympathetic but she’s a stranger and her voice is strange and Chris is just - where’s Darren? He tries to ask but it comes out garbled. He can’t talk, why can’t he talk? Did they steal his voice? 

If Darren were here, Darren would make them give his voice back. 

Darren isn’t here. Darren is gone, so far away, and Chris is floating and voiceless and he wants this over. 

* 

Ashley’s waiting for him, sitting in the lobby on her cell phone. 

Chris only feels marginally more like himself. He still needs someone to help him walk because he thinks he’s floating, and the ground is shifting like jello under his feet. 

He’s also still crying, which will be thoroughly humiliating later but right now he just wants to go home. 

Maybe his voice is at home. Maybe his mom is at home. He’d like his mother right now. She could cuddle and rock him like she used to do in hospital waiting rooms or doctors offices just like this one, waiting on Hannah. 

Hannah should be at home, too. 

Instead no one will be. He’s alone. 

Distantly he hears Ashley saying, “Damn, he is out of it. Can I get some of that to go?” 

All he hears is go and tries to lurch forward. Strong arms grab him and haul him back. “Slow down.” 

“Darren,” he tries to say, but the cotton jammed into his mouth is still there and muffling his words. Darren isn’t there, he reminds himself, Darren isn’t there or else he wouldn’t still be floating. Darren would grab him and hold him still and… “Keep me from going into the clouds-” 

He doesn’t realize he’s talking out loud until the laughter finds its way into his ears and just enough brain cells rub together for him to recognize that they’re laughing at him. He’s horribly offended at being the butt of a joke he doesn’t even understand. 

Big, wet tears roll down his cheeks. 

If Darren were here, Darren wouldn’t laugh at him. 

Darren - laughing - 

That sounds like Darren. 

Laughing. 

He spins around, or tries to, and… it’s Darren. Grinning, rumpled, beautiful Darren. Chris flings his arms around him and Darren holds him steady. “Hey, I got you. No floating. No clouds unless I’m up there, too.” 

It’s not his mom, or Hannah, but it’s _Darren_. Chris feels anchored again. 

*

"Hey, Chris..." Darren starts. "I'm not sure this is such a great idea. Why don't we go back to bed?" 

When Darren thinks something 'isn't such a great idea' that probably means that in reality it's a really very awfully terrible idea. Normally, this would be a red flag and Chris would immediately stop what he was doing and back away quickly to minimize the damage. 

But this isn't a normal situation and Chris isn't exactly thinking at his most clear. In fact, nothing much is clear at all. The world is pleasantly hazy and he’s come down off of it a lot in the hours since they’ve left the clinic but he still feels like he's moving on cotton balls just like the ones currently shoved into his mouth. 

"No," he insists, words coming out slurred. "I wanna go. 's game day. I can't miss the game!" 

"Chris, you hate football. You never want to go to pep rallies. Last time you begged Brian and Joey to come pick me up so you wouldn't have to go with me. You told me the body paint was ridiculous and you wouldn't be seen in public with me," Darren says. "And there's not even a game today." 

Body paint!

Body paint sounds like the best fucking idea Chris has ever heard. He jolts to his feet and heads for the cabinet he knows the yellow and blue paint bottles are. The room dips and sways around him and his mouth aches but it's only faint, like he's feeling vibrations from the other end of a pool. A pool of jello. Red jello. He likes red, and jello. And also blue. And - oh, blue! Paint! Blue paint! "I'm gonna paint-" 

"Whoa, no-" Darren grabs Chris and hauls him back. Chris struggles but only weakly. "I got a better idea. How about we go get into bed?"

Darren's arms around him feel nice. Chris sinks back into it, smiling and closing his eyes. Colors dance across the backs of his eyelids and he feels like he's on a roller coaster even though he's not moving.

“You’re supposed to be somewhere else,” Chris informs Darren as he lets Darren guide him to the bedroom. 

“Yeah, see, they make these magical things called airplanes that get us from one place to another,” Darren teases. “And I got an earlier flight because I heard someone needed some TLC.” 

Chris starts to sing _No Scrubs_. Loudly. 

“Oh, our neighbors are gonna love you tonight.” Darren laughs and squeezes his arms around Chris. 

*

The next morning the high has well and truly gone and Chris doesn’t want to move for the aching, throbbing pain that is his jaw and gums. 

He’s also _hungry_. Hungry, in pain, and cranky. 

“Julia’s on her way with groceries,” Darren promises. “You can take another painkiller in half an hour.” 

Chris glares at him. “Thirty minutes, Darren. It’s not like that’ll make much of a difference.” 

“It says it on the bottle for a reason…” Darren climbs back into bed with him. “Next movie?” 

They are a movie and a half into their first official Harry Potter rewatch as a couple. It’s only nine am, but Chris woke up early - thanks to passing out by seven pm the night before - and forced Darren up with him to keep him company. 

“I can’t believe it’s taken us this many years to watch these movies together,” Chris says. He snuggles into Darren as safely as he can without upsetting the delicate truce with the tiny little needles stabbing inside his mouth. “I mean, you’ve seen my old bedroom.” 

“Oh yes,” Darren says. “I also saw those Halloween pictures.” 

“Oh my god, where?” Chris is horrified. “I made that costume myself.” 

“You really need to check facebook more often.” Darren grins at him smugly. “Your mom uploaded a ton of baby pictures.” 

“Did she tag me in them?” The horror magnifies. 

“Nah, she didn’t, but we’re friends on there so I saw them anyway. And you can ask her to delete them but I just want you to know that I’ve already saved them to my hard drive. In a password protected folder, so you can’t just steal my laptop and delete them.” 

Chris sulks. “You shouldn’t be so mean to me when I’m in pain.” 

“You shouldn’t be so adorable.” Darren kisses his temple very carefully. “Now, shut up, I love this scene.”

*

It hits Chris harder than he anticipated - the pain and the medicine both - and it doesn’t take much urging for him to decide he can work out a way to make it up later and skip his Tuesday classes. It’s almost like a vacation. 

Not a great vacation, considering Chris is asleep or whining half the time, but it’s still the first two-day stretch of time he and Darren have spent together without leaving the apartment since summer. 

They finish all of the Potter movies, which involves a lot of note-taking that Darren manages to call (with an entirely straight face) character study for the second Harry Potter musical they’re working on. 

Darren writes a couple of the songs, too. He’s not even sure how they come about, except lots of giggling and laughing and Darren sitting crosslegged on the bed with his guitar singing whatever comes to his mind while Chris makes suggestions. 

He tries to convince Darren that the thing about Hermione not being able to draw that Chris came up with entirely under the influence really shouldn’t leave the room, but Darren is insistent. “Are you shitting me? Nick is gonna love that, man. That’s like gold. He’ll figure out a way to work it in.” 

Chris whines and pulls the drawstrings on the hood he’s already got up. 

“Oh man you are so fucking cute,” Darren laughs. He grabs his phone but Chris covers his face with both hands. “No, come on, I need a new phone background! I kept showing you off to people when I was in LA and I realized this picture is like two months old. I don’t take enough pictures of you.” 

“Darren, you take like a dozen pictures a week of me. I remember, because most of them involve me being in really embarrassing situations and you just want to keep them to laugh at me,” Chris points out. 

“You do the same thing,” Darren says. “But no, really. Hey, come on. Come here.” 

Darren puts the guitar down and crawls over sit beside Chris, putting his arm around him. 

“This is going to look bad. My mouth is still swollen.” Chris leans in though, smiling at their own image through the front facing camera. He rests his other hand on Darren’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth of the touch. 

The picture isn’t great by any means, not a glamour shot in the least, but it’s them. Sleepy and rumpled and comfortable. 

“Verdict?” Darren looks like he’s expecting a fight on it. 

“Don’t make it your background. Wait until I don’t look like I just got my ass kicked for that,” Chris says. “But… you can keep it. And send it to me?” 

Darren beams at him. 

*

Despite his fears, the wisdom tooth ordeal doesn’t keep him down that long. It’s a good thing, too, because his life isn’t about to stop. He emerges from the forced break from reality to find he’s behind on schoolwork, low on money, been cast in a show he’d auditioned for, and been given extra hours on his internship. 

The next weeks speed by but before he knows it midterms are almost over, and Chris wants to throw a party. 

So he decides he’ll do exactly that. The only problem is that if he does, he’ll be doing it alone. Darren has _plans_. Plans that he’s doing his best to talk Darren out of. It’ll be his third trip to Los Angeles in under two months. 

Even though he knows Darren won’t actually cancel the trip, he still keeps trying. He’s not even sure why, but - he does. He’s sitting on the bed a script he’s trying to memorize open on his lap, running lines to a silent partner and occasionally stopping to plead his case to Darren again. 

“Besides,” Darren says as he throws some clothes into a bag. Chris keeps eyeing it, wanting to push Darren aside and do the packing himself, but he won’t be that guy. He just won’t. “If I go during midterms you get time to study and a quiet apartment and I get to avoid being woken up at four am because you just fucking need Starbucks.” 

“You suck,” Chris says. “I thought you _loved_ four am Starbucks runs. But, fine.” 

And then he drops it. 

For about the ten minutes that Darren is out of the room, trying to find the right spare charger. As soon as he walks back in Chris asks, “Work is okay with you taking off again?” 

“Yeah, I mean - I don’t know if they’re thrilled, but I don’t want to pass up this chance. I’m only missing Thursday and Friday, anyway. My audition is Thursday and I’ll be back Saturday afternoon.” Darren explains. “There’s like one thing I was down on the schedule for that I had to beg someone else to take. The rest is just paperwork bullshit I can catch up on later.” 

To Darren, all of the paperwork is bullshit paperwork. The one thing this job has taught him is that he’s much happier being on the creative end of things. 

When Darren turns around to root through a drawer that they normally just keep socks and underwear in, Chris sighs and reaches out to snag the corner of the bag between his fingers and tug it over. He grabs the haphazardly folded t-shirts and starts to roll them up instead so they take up less space and won’t wrinkle as badly. “Are you just taking this bag?” 

Darren looks over his shoulder and grins when he sees what Chris is doing. “Yeah. I’m taking my guitar as my other carry on.” 

Chris knows better than to ask Darren why he needs his guitar for a three day trip. 

Darren makes a triumphant sound when he finds the charger. “I’m gonna take this one since the cord is about to bite it anyway.” 

“So it won’t matter as much when you accidentally leave it there, good plan.” Chris steps back and gestures down to where the bag now has half the space left for other stuff. “Who are you staying with this time?” 

“I don’t know. I might just get a hotel room if no one has space for me to crash.” Darren’s lack of planning is another thing that Chris wants to swoop in and take control of, but - this is Darren’s trip. Darren seems to have that knack for floating into town and just landing wherever he lands and it working out perfectly. 

Chris grabs his arm when Darren comes over to drop his toothbrush into the bag. “What time is your flight again?” 

“Uh, I need to be at the airport in like… an hour?” Darren says. 

“So plenty of time…” Chris murmurs. 

Darren’s eyebrows are lifted up perkily and Chris loves how just like that, they’re on the same track. He picks up the travel bag and puts it on the floor as Chris lays down sideways across the bed, a smile curving the corners of his mouth. Darren straddles him and frames Chris’s face with his fingers, leaning down to kiss him. 

“Plenty of time? Depends on what for.” Darren sits up, yanking his t-shirt over his head. 

Chris feels a flush of warmth at the sight of all that skin exposed. He reaches up and rakes his fingers over Darren’s chest, feeling the hair rough under his fingertips. “You know,” he murmurs. “You didn’t have nearly as much of this when we met.” 

Darren grins and pushes Chris’s shirt up to bend and kiss at his tummy, underneath his bellybutton. “Yeah, and you didn’t have any.” 

Chris laughs and bats him away. “That tickles. And - hey. Don’t mock my pre growth-spurt body. I was very insecure.” 

“Mm, no reason to be now.” Darren tugs at the shirt and Chris lifts up enough for Darren to help him get it off. “I’m a big fan of what that growth spurt did.” 

“What, like make me taller than you? Remember when we met? Remember how-” Chris stops talking abruptly when Darren smashes their mouths together for a kiss, and then he doesn’t even remember what he was going to say to begin with because Darren is rocking into him and both of them are laughing.

When they come up for air there’s a scramble to get pants off. Darren puts a pause on the action to move his bag to the floor and then grabs his phone. 

“What-” Chris props himself up on his elbows, naked and cock half-hard against the line of his pelvis. “Are you texting someone?” 

Darren laughs. “No, baby, I promise. I’m just setting an alarm. So you don’t distract me into missing my flight.” 

“I wouldn’t,” Chris protests, but then he bites his lip. “Unless it might work.” 

“Nuh uh.” Darren mock-glares at him. “Not into missing my flight, anyway. You are free to distract me right up until that alarm goes off.” 

He crawls back on top of Chris again, this time nothing separating the warm press of naked flesh. Chris kisses him greedily, soaking it in because he won’t get it for days and days. While that seems like nothing, like no big deal to not have sex for that long if they’re both busy and stressed, add in not seeing Darren at all during the span of time and it leaves Chris feeling half-crazed. 

“I gotcha,” Darren whispers, kissing down his neck. “Blowjob?” 

“No,” Chris says. “Can you - fuck me?” 

Darren’s eyes go wider and brighter. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, yes. Please,” Chris says, already reaching for the lube. It’s still out from the previous morning, when they’d shared sleepy hasty handjobs in the minutes before Darren had to go shower and leave for work. “I want to feel you tomorrow.” 

“Shit,” Darren says. “You know just what to say.” 

He preps Chris thoroughly but quickly, fingers pressing in and in and in until Chris is gasping, only to take them back out long enough to add more lube and push in with another. He makes Darren keep kissing him throughout, but it’s no hardship for Darren. 

“Love you, love you so _much_ ,” Darren whispers, resting his cheek against Chris’s as he drizzles lube between them, enough of an excess that he can fuck his cock down against Chris’s and smear it across them both. He uses his hand to make sure it’s spread around enough on himself and then sits back. 

Chris sighs at the loss of the closeness but it’s worth it to have a better view of the expression on Darren’s face as he guides himself in. Chris gasps at the first pop of pressure and invasion, just the head snugged tight against that first ring of muscle, then Darren is letting go and pushing in. It feels like forever and somehow still like no time at all until he’s buried as deep as he can go in this position. Darren’s hands on Chris’s hips are big and warm and guiding, gripping harder and tighter as he picks up speed and rhythm. 

It’s good but it’s not enough, it’s not quite what Chris wants. “Come here,” he asks, reaching out a hand. 

Darren nods, blissed out on fucking and happy to accommodate. Chris bends his legs and gets them wrapped around Darren and it all just falls right into place how he likes it, Darren’s body too hot and too close, crowding him in deliciously. His arms overlap around Darren’s neck, feeling the sweat prickling everywhere between them now. Darren’s breath is a warm gust on his neck and the slap of Darren’s balls on his ass is more pronounced. 

He can’t even reach between them to jerk himself off, there’s no way he’ll come from this, but it’s so perfectly what he wants that he doesn’t even care. He braces himself against Darren’s body and lets Darren chase his own pleasure, relishes every gasp and grunt from Darren’s mouth until the moment his body locks up and he keens with it. 

As he coasts down Darren places sloppy wet kisses on Chris’s neck. He shifts - enough that his dick slips free, enough that he can reach between them. His mouth finds Chris’s as they kiss like that, kiss until Chris’s on the verge of coming and it’s really more Darren just kissing him. He loses his breath to the suck of Darren’s lips on his bottom one as he splatters come between their pressed together stomachs, feeling it drip down his sides and onto the sheets. He’ll have to change them, but he’d have to even without this because Darren’s come is making its way out, too. 

“Oh, god,” he sighs, slumping back. “That was good.” 

“Good?” Darren sounds faintly offended. 

They peel themselves apart, but Darren doesn’t go far. 

“Quite good?” Chris offers, turning his head to look at Darren. He grabs Darren’s phone to look at the alarm. “You realize this has like twenty minutes left. You were kind of ambitious there, weren’t you?” 

Darren might go a little red, or maybe it’s still the sex flush. “What can I say? You were extra inspiring.”

*

The party Chris throws isn’t _supposed_ to turn into one of those epic raving all nighters like Brian and Joey still have, but Chris’s idea of inviting a couple dozen of the other theater students somehow turns into… something bigger. 

Bigger involves more people than should honestly be able to squeeze into his apartment, spilling over onto the balcony outside and even into the parking lot. He starts out a little uneasy about the numbers but there isn’t a face he doesn’t recognize as he looks around and really it’s… it’s nice. 

He’s in his own space, this place he has ownership of and belongs, he’s got his friends and he’s got things to celebrate. He texts Darren but Darren’s having celebrations of his own so they don’t push it past checking in every hour or two. 

*

Chris finds Julia standing in the kitchen, staring at a photo stuck on the fridge with a magnet. 

“Hey,” he says, not wanting to startle her. She looks deep in thought. “Um, beer run.” 

He gestures to the fridge. She steps back, smiling apologetically. “Sorry. I was just… that’s a good picture of you two.” 

The tone of her voice is just off enough that he wonders if she’s drunk. She holds her liquor surprisingly well for her size, but the alcohol is flowing tonight. 

He doesn’t think that’s it, though. 

He looks at the picture. It is a good one. Darren is in Chris’s lap and has his head turned, eyes squinted shut and grinning mouth pressing a kiss to Chris’s temple. Chris is caught mid-laugh. 

He looks at Julia again and she looks… 

Sad, maybe? 

“Hey,” he says. “Do you want to go talk somewhere?” 

He’s almost surprised when she nods. 

*

He shuts the bedroom door behind them. The noise from the party is immediately filtered by half. 

“Is everything okay?” Chris asks. 

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “I’m sorry. I’m just - you know. I’ve had a few, and I started thinking about… college, you know? And growing up. How it’s all - over. Almost. Everyone is growing up and growing apart. Sometimes I feel like we’re the lost boys leaving neverland.” 

It puts an uneasy feeling in Chris’s stomach to hear her talk. He nods slowly, just listening. 

She goes on. “I haven’t really told anyone yet, but I’m moving to New York. I’ve always wanted to, and I just feel like now is my chance. When am I ever going to be in this position in my life again, where there’s nothing tying me down to any one place and I feel this motivated to try and chase my dreams? I think… my dreams are in New York. At least right now.” 

“Oh. I… wow.” It’s not that surprising. A lot of the people that graduated with Darren have already scattered, jumping on board opportunities they already had lined up. They’ve both had to say a few goodbyes. But, Julia… “Darren’s going to be upset.” 

Julia smiles, but it falls short of her eyes. “Darren has plenty of other things to distract him from missing me.” 

Chris feels like he should console her but that tiny part of him that’s never entirely gone away, that tiny part that just _wonders_ , rears itself in an ugly way. “You really love him, don’t you?” 

She’s surprised but to her credit she doesn’t falter much. “He’s the first person I ever really fell in love with. I don’t think that ever goes completely away.” 

It is, surprisingly, exactly what Chris needed to hear. She doesn’t sound angry or resentful, not in any of the ways Chris thinks he would if he were talking to Darren’s next partner years down the line.

The thing about Julia that Chris has realized - the thing that was both a comfort and a curse - is that they’re so alike. If Darren has a type (which neither of them really believe in, but if-) then they are both it. He looks at Julia and he doesn’t know why Darren didn’t work with her, because all the puzzle pieces seem to line up just right. 

But Chris is so, so glad that it didn’t slide into place because if it had he wouldn’t be standing here now. Knowing that, and being as secure in what he has with Darren as he is, is what allows him to say, “He loves you, too.” 

She looks down and smiles to herself, a little bit. “I know. And I’m glad. When you came along I thought he’d just - forget me totally. I love seeing how happy he is with you, but I wanted him to still need me, too.” 

“He does.” It’s like releasing a breath, like the feeling when a band-aid rips off and it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you thought it would. 

They don’t hug. They don’t touch. That’s never really been their style. There is only a moment of eye contact before Julia turns and walks out. 

*

Darren comes home the next day to Chris still asleep on the couch, hungover. He’s not actually sure who ended up in the bed but the bedding is rumpled and there’s a suspicious stain. 

“I can’t believe you let strangers fuck in our bed,” Darren whines. He’s trying to sound amused but Chris feels bad because he’s pretty sure Darren actually is exhausted, and not because he had as much fun the night before as Chris had. 

“I don’t know that they were strangers,” Chris says. “I mean, if they were at our party-” 

“Babe, I wasn’t even here, this one was all yours,” Darren says, sounding tired. 

“... my party,” Chris corrects himself, feeling chastised, “then I’m sure they weren’t strangers.” 

Darren just gives him a _look_. But beyond the surface irritation Chris can see the bone-deep weariness. 

Darren’s actually just exhausted because of how hard he’s pushing himself in every direction. Traveling between Michigan and Los Angeles a couple weekends a month at least for auditions, working full time on campus, his night gigs, and still trying to make time to keep Chris sane in his final semester… 

While Darren strips the sheets and comforter off the bed (and shit, that one is a bitch to wash, a whole load all by itself) Chris slinks away and starts to clean up the apartment, grabbing a trash bag to collect various debris in the form of beer bottles and plastic cups and paper plates with pizza grease stain. 

Chris gets it satisfactorily cleaned up and remakes the bed with their clean linens. They don’t really match, but Darren isn’t the sort to care. Just to try and grease the wheels a little, he also feeds the cat so she won’t interrupt them, changes her litter, takes out the trash, and then makes sure there are clean towels in the bathroom. 

It’s been almost an hour by the time his cleaning frenzy is done and Darren still hasn’t come back from the laundry rooms. Chris sits on the couch nervously nibbling at a fingernail, wondering if he should go check. 

Then the door opens. Darren has his phone in his hand, circles under his eyes. He sounds distracted even as he says, “Sorry. Got caught up with my agent.” 

“Oh?” Chris sits up straighter. “News?” 

“They didn’t want me,” Darren says. He drops down beside Chris, rubbing his face with his hands. “He just - he heard through the grapevine. They’re going for a different type. He just wanted to let me know not to hold my breath.” 

Chris sighs and leans over to him, drawing Darren into a loose embrace. Darren lets himself be pulled. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“I know actors go through a lot of rejection. It’s not like - it’s what I signed up for. I get it. It just _fucking sucks_.” There’s a brief burst of anger and then it dissolves again. “Do I even want to be doing this?” 

“Yeah,” Chris answers. He doesn’t even have to think about it. “You do.” 

If there’s one thing Chris won’t do, it’s stand between Darren and his passion. This - acting, music, being in the spotlight - is his passion. 

Darren still doesn’t look convinced, but that’s okay. Chris’s job right now isn’t to convince him. It’s to cancel his plans for the night, stick Darren in bed for a nap while he works out what to do for dinner and probably run to the store, come back and draw him a bath that they can share, give him the best fucking blowjob he’s had in a month, feed him, and then later - no matter if it takes days or weeks - shove him back out the door to follow those dreams again. 

*

Darren meets him on campus for lunch every Tuesday and Thursday that he’s not off on location. It’s something Chris looks forward to every week, because some of their friends graduated with Darren but enough are Chris’s age or just taking a little longer to get there that it feels comfortable and familiar and _fun_. 

Joey’s there today, Joey and Brian talking about moving somewhere and maybe trying to find a place together, Brittany and Corey talking about a show they’re both working on right now. Plans are made for weekend hangouts, Darren’s talking to Tyler and A.J. about his last audition out and wanting to give him numbers to a couple of music people he knows in the area. 

Chris sits back mostly, lost in one of those moments where he wants to just observe and catalogue and remember this. He finds Darren’s hand under the table and takes it, catching Darren off guard. He stumbles midway through a sentence and looks over at Chris and smiles before going back to what he was saying. 

When Chris turns back away from him he catches Joey staring at them. He makes a ridiculous moon-eyed kissyface at them that makes Chris laugh. Joey’s smile is wide and genuine, though - happy. Happy for _them_.

That surge of sentimentality expands to envelope him too. Chris knows there’s really no guarantee that once the semester is over he’ll get to hold onto these people that closely, but he hopes that wherever they all end up their paths will continue to cross as much as they can. 

*

When Chris calls he wants to talk to his mother, but she’s busy. 

“Doing dishes,” Hannah says. “Talk to me instead!” 

“If you insist,” Chris says. It’s not like it’s a hardship. Besides Darren, she’s still his favorite person to talk to. Missing her has mellowed, become this thing that just exists in him, but phone and skype provide a measure of contact and closeness still. 

He listens to her talk about the book their mother is reading to her, about how funny the doctor was at her last appointment, about the adventures her stuffed animals have gone on. It leaves him feeling light, touched in a strange way. 

Hannah doesn’t change, not much. She’s solid and there, she’s happy and loves him.

He would do anything for her, he thinks, until: 

“So when are you coming home?” She asks. 

“We’ll visit around Christmas,” he answers. 

“But you’re done with school then.” There’s something in her voice, a stubborn confusion. “Aren’t you coming home when you’re done with school?” 

“To - to visit.” Chris answers, realizing what she’s been thinking even though he wishes he didn’t. “But probably not to stay.” 

There’s a silence on the other end of the line and then the thunk of a phone dropped, or maybe thrown. 

Chris calls back, worried and guilty. His mother answers. She sounds distracted. “Christopher, what-” 

“Did Hannah think I was moving back home when I graduated?” Chris asks. 

His mother is surprised when she says, “I don’t think so-” 

“I think she did,” Chris says. “Can you go-” 

He listens to the sound of his mother walking through the house, a dog barking somewhere near her. 

She sighs and says, “She’s crying, I’ll call you back.” 

*

His mother does call him back. 

“She’s disappointed, but she’ll be fine, Christopher,” his mother reassures him. “We’ll both talk to her, and she knows you’ll be visiting.” 

“Tell her she can have a bedroom wherever we move,” Chris says. “See if that makes her feel better.” 

It’s not that impulsive of an idea. He and Darren have talked about it, if they can manage a house. Los Angeles is the plan, now that Darren’s moderate internet fame has at least gotten him noticed by a couple of agencies and given him something to set himself apart on paper. The odds are only slightly better than the average wannabe actor, but slightly better can stand for a lot in Darren’s line of work. 

“I’ll tell her. She’s asleep now.” There’s a pause. “Have you and Darren figured that out yet? Where you’ll be?”

Chris speaks without overthinking, because his mother wants to know something and he wants to have an answer to give. “Probably Los Angeles.” 

It’s not the only option, of course. There’s still New York, or Chicago, or just staying in Ann Arbor for a while longer. 

But Los Angeles still somehow feels like an inevitability. Maybe because it feels like Darren is already halfway there. 

“Good, good. If I can’t have you back in your old bedroom I at least want you in the same state,” she declares.

“We’ll be able to come visit a lot more,” Chris promises. 

*

Chris knows something is wrong the minute he walks into their apartment. 

Darren’s supposed to be at work, for one thing. It’s the middle of the day and Chris is only home because he got a text message telling him that he needed to be. He’d argued back and forth with Darren on how he didn’t need to miss any more class, but Darren insisted. 

The minute he realized Darren must be pushing it for a reason he had a knot in his stomach that hasn’t gone away. It’s just gotten worse and worse the closer he got to home until standing in front of the door, he hadn’t even been sure he wanted to walk through it. 

But he had, and now he’s here, and Darren isn’t anywhere to be seen. 

“Darren?” Chris calls out, voice timid but loud enough to reach. 

Darren answers from the bedroom. “In here.”

Chris walks in and the first thing that strikes him is that the room is spotless. Darren doesn’t clean... well, not often and not voluntarily. Only when Chris absolutely demands it. He looks around as he takes in the perfectly made bed, the laundry stacked on the ironing board, the empty waste basket. He even put the lube away somewhere, no longer on its normal spot by Chris’s side of the bed. “What’s going on? Didn’t you go to work today?” 

“Um.” Darren starts, then clears his throat. “No. I got a call. I - this morning, just after you left, I got a phone call.” 

He’s dressed for work, the kind of stuff he wears in to the studio on campus or out onto the field.

Darren is sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands steepled under his chin. 

He takes too long to respond. The nerves in Chris’s stomach grow. 

He thinks he knows what Darren is going to say. They’ve been waiting on this for weeks now, walking on eggshells around each other, falling back on old habits. 

They’ve always had this problem with being unwilling to have the hard conversations until they absolutely have to. They’ve gotten better, mostly, but this big thing… 

Despite what Chris told his mother, they haven’t actually talked about it. A lot of assumptions on either side, but not a lot of discussion. He has an irrational urge to stop Darren before Darren says anything else. But he doesn’t, and so Darren tells him: “I got the part. They want me in LA next week.” 

Chris starts to cry. He doesn’t mean to. He really, really doesn’t. He wants to be happy for Darren, damnit. He turns so he’s facing away and hastily wipes his eyes. 

Darren doesn’t move off of the bed. “Come here. Hey, it’s okay, just come here.” 

Chris takes a shaky breath and sits down on the edge of the bed. “That is amazing, Darren. It’s - everything, for you. The start of everything.” 

Darren’s fingers close over Chris’s. “My agent says if I’m serious about this I need to get my ass out there permanently. Even if they only keep me for a couple of episodes, I can’t afford plane tickets back and forth for every audition and gig, anyway.” 

His parents have been generous with the help, but they both know that the back and forth has been a strain. 

Chris nods and uses his free hand to wipe more tears away. “I know.” 

He doesn’t ask Darren not to. He doesn’t plead, or beg, or try to convince Darren that he should wait just one more semester, until Chris is finished with school, too. This is a decision that Darren’s already made, but Chris wouldn’t have even let him make a different one. 

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though. 

“It’s only three months,” Darren says. His voice is breaking a little, too, but it’s something different than what Chris is feeling. “We got that, Chris. That’s nothing.” 

Darren has always had more faith in them than Chris has. It’s not a sign that Chris feels less, just that he’s had to spend more of his life cloaked in cynicism and disbelief. It will always be harder for him to acknowledge how loved and wanted he is in any relationship. 

He’s tried. He’s tried so _hard_. The semester apart taught him he can do it but it also taught him that he doesn’t want to. Italy isn’t Los Angeles, either; Italy was never going to be permanent, and Los Angeles… 

It’s Darren’s future. It’s a future that Darren’s going to be starting before him, without him, while he’s still left behind in Michigan. 

Chris shakes his head, pulling his hand away so he can wrap his arms around himself. “In three months you might not even remember why you wanted to drag your college boyfriend across the country with you.” 

Darren takes a deep breath. “No. I might not.” 

And oh, _fuck_ , that hurts so badly to hear. Chris tries to get off of the bed, needing to be anywhere but here. “I can’t do this-”

Darren grabs his hand. “I might not remember why I wanted my college boyfriend to come with me, but I guaran _fucking_ tee you that not a minute will go by that I’m not counting down until my fiance can be there with me.” 

It takes Chris a few seconds to process the ring sitting in Darren’s open hand. “What?” 

“I’m asking you to marry me, Chris. I don’t want to do any of this without you. You gotta stay here, and finish school, and I gotta go there. But I want this on your finger when I walk out the door and I want you to wake up every morning looking at it and fucking know that it doesn’t matter where on this whole damn planet I am, I’m thinking of you and I’m missing _you_ ,” Darren says. 

“You don’t need to do this,” Chris says. 

“Need to? No, I don’t need to.” Darren shrugs. “I love you. We’re a forever thing, ring or no ring. I’m doing this because I think you need it, and because I _want_ it. I want you, and I want a shitty apartment in Los Angeles that we can barely afford and I want us working whatever shitty jobs we can get just to keep the cat and ourselves fed and I want us building the rest of our lives together.” Darren takes a steadying breath. “Please. Take it. If you don’t want to be engaged right now, or, or ever, to me, then still take it. Consider it a promise ring.” 

“”No,” Chris says, and the way Darren’s face falls so abruptly almost makes him laugh. Maybe he’s being mean but that’s okay because Darren deserves it for how much he’s making Chris cry and how beautiful that whole speech was. “No, it’s not a promise ring. It’s an engagement ring, asshole.” 

Darren laughs, loud and choppy and full of elated disbelief. “Really?” 

Chris wiping more tears away as he takes the ring and slides it onto his finger. “You don’t get out of it that easily. You proposed, no takebacks.” 

Darren’s smile doesn’t so much emerge as appears there fully in an instant, beaming and joyous, as he tackles Chris to the bed and hugs him tightly enough to suffocate. “I love you. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.” 

Chris pushes until they’re flipped and Darren is on his back, laughing while he leans down for a kiss. There are tears on both of their faces now. He kisses him again, softly and close-lipped. “Three months?” He asks. Darren nods. Chris looks at the ring again, and then back at Darren’s face. “We got this.” 

 

**Epilogue:**

There’s a moment not quite three months later when Chris is standing in the middle of all of his friends, looking at his family and his sister and his soulmate, looking at all of them looking back at him with so much pride in their faces. 

He walked into this town, into this _school_ , with nothing but a lot of expectations he thought were unrealistic and a vague sense of thinking his life was meant to be something better. He leaves it with a degree in his hand, a ring on his finger, and a sense of breathless anticipation for what his future’s going to hold.


End file.
